"I do not tell lies, sir," she said flatly.
Redcloak's eyebrows shot upward. "Never, lass?"
Feeling warmth flood her cheeks, Janet said to the master of Hermitage, "I will do naught a-purpose to bring disaster upon you or yours, sir. I cannot say that I have never told a falsehood, but neither can I pretend that I have ever lied to my brother when he has asked me a direct question. I do not believe I could do that."
"I thank you for your honesty, mistress. Quin, by God, I should order you bound to the old oak and horsewhipped for this."
A little to Janet's surprise, the reiver abstained from making another light rejoinder. Into the silence that followed the grimly uttered threat, she said, "Why do you call him Quin, sir? Is his name not Rabbie, then?"
"He has many names, mistress," Buccleuch said, casting another look of displeasure at the reiver.
"Including several that you bear," the reiver said quietly.
"I'll thank you to recall, however, that I am also your liege lord."
"Aye, 'tis true, you are." The reiver made a profound leg and extended his right hand. "Shall I pledge this hand again? I am sorry that I let them take me, but at the time I thought it the best thing to do. I continued to think that right up until Sir Hugh Graham informed me that he meant to hang me without the benefit of a trial."
"The devil he did!" Buccleuch exclaimed. "I wondered why that dimwitted pudding Scrope failed to send word of your arrival at Carlisle."
"The reason is that Sir Hugh cast me into his dungeon at Brackengill. At first, he said that he would let me rot there till Wednesday, but the lass informed me last night that this morning's sunrise was to be my last."
"Faith, but 'tis the Sabbath! Is that true, mistress?"
"To my shame, sir, it is," Janet said. "My brother was angry with … with this man. I do not know what to call him," she added in frustration.
"Do not trouble your head with trivialities," Buccleuch recommended. "Call him ‘impudent knave' and ‘varlet,' as I do."
"Mind your manners, Wat," the reiver said. "If she believes you, Mistress Janet will think that she has risked her life to no good purpose. You will offend her sensibilities so-and mine, as well."
"Risked her life! What's this? I assumed you'd abducted her out of pique."
His expression of astonishment was so ludicrous that Janet bit her lower lip to keep from smiling and quickly lowered her gaze to the rich Turkey carpet.
"She set me free," the reiver said solemnly, "and if I do not mistake the matter, she thus committed march treason. Sir Hugh Graham might not wish her dead, but he will not thank her for her deeds. I could not leave her to face his fury."
Buccleuch's next words wiped the half smile from Janet's lips.
"By God," he declared, "there is nothing else for it then. You'll just have to marry the wench."
Chapter 8
"With him nae pleading might
prevail … "
JANET STARED AT BUCCLEUCH, wondering if he were daft.
Her tongue refused to move, and her body seemed to belong to someone else, for it did not feel as if it were connected to her. She did not want to speak as much as she wanted to scream that such a notion was madness. Her pulse was working overtime, however, for the sounds of its labor roared in her ears.
The colorfully rich trappings of the chamber seemed to spin around her as if she were in some strange dream and could not wake up because she could not stir a hand to pinch herself.
The reiver's deep voice brought her back to the moment with a thump when he said casually, "I do not think that I am of a mind to marry just yet."
Buccleuch snapped, "I don't care a pin for the set of your mind, sir. Consider the consequences if you do not marry her."
"Just think of the consequences if I do," the reiver said, still in that maddeningly mild tone. "The penalty for marrying across the line is death, Wat, or had you forgotten that small detail?"
"I have not forgotten anything, but it will be far easier for me to arrange a marriage than to protect you against the consequences of this crazy abduction. Christ, Quin, but you've put me in the devil of a fix! I must think on this. Get hence now, the pair of you, and leave me to it."
"And go where?" the reiver asked. "If I do not mistake the matter, you summoned me to Hermitage rather publicly, and Jess Armstrong has seen Mistress Graham in my company. I put no great faith in his discretion, so I think it likely that she will be safer under your protection than with me."
"She cannot stay here," Buccleuch retorted. "There are no other females on the premises, because Margaret and the bairns are at Branxholme. If you want to take Mistress Graham there-What the devil do you want?" This last question, although it had the effect of making Janet's head spin again, was directed to a lackey who had entered the hall hastily and without ceremony.
"Beggin' your pardon, laird," the lad said, "but there be a gentleman below demanding speech wi' ye. Calls hisself Sir Hugh Graham, he does."
Gasping, Janet swayed, but a firm hand caught her elbow, and the reiver said calmly, "Steady, lass."
Buccleuch made a sound that was so like a growl from one of her brother's dogs that Janet held Jemmy closer and nearly glanced around the hall for one.
The ensuing silence was brief. Then the master of Hermitage said grimly to the lackey, "Go back down and invite Sir Hugh to join me here. See that any men he has with him get ale and bread in the great hall and that someone provides his horses with water and grain. I shall not invite him to take supper with me."
"Aye, laird." The lad turned to leave but halted at a murmured command from his master.
"No one below mentioned my guests, did they?"
"Nay, laird, they ken better nor that."
"Excellent. See that they keep their tongues locked behind their teeth till Sir Hugh and his men have departed." When the lackey had gone, Buccleuch said, "The pair of you can go upstairs to my private apartments till I get shut of the man. You've no cause to fear harm here, mistress. He brought you thus far in safety, and betwixt us we'll see you safe out of this muddle."
"Thank you, sir. I pray that you will not tell my brother you have seen me."
"Have no fear o' that. Go now, and quickly."
To her surprise, the reiver said not a word but obeyed at once, urging her ahead of him into the stairwell. As she hurried to the next level, she kept expecting to hear him make one of his impudent remarks, but he did not.
The master's chamber proved to be as comfortably appointed as the hall below it; however, the fireplace boasted a carved mantel and occupied the center of the long wall. Thick, heavily embroidered bed curtains bore the same hunting and battle scenes that decorated the bedcover, and the carpet on the floor was another fine one. Other carpets covered several chests and coffers. Clearly, Buccleuch was a man of some wealth as well as great power.
"You need not move so far away," the reiver said as she walked toward an arched window recess with stone benches lining its three walls.
"I want to look out, to see where we are within the castle. I lost my sense of direction on that circular stairway."
"Well, do not show yourself in that window, lass. You never know who might be looking up here. It looks south over Hermitage Water and Liddesdale."
She hesitated, then decided she should listen to him. If Hugh truly suspected that Buccleuch sheltered her, he might leave men outside the castle for the sole purpose of keeping watch to see if she appeared at a window.
Still carrying her cat, she went to stand by the fireplace instead. It was tall enough so that if she were of a mind to do so she could walk inside it without doing more than bending her head a little. Not that she harbored such a wish. Critically, she noted that the hearth had not been swept recently. Indeed, it looked to her as if it had not been cleaned in some weeks. New fires had been laid on the ashes of the old. At Brackengill, she would not allow such untidiness.
The reiver remained silent, and conscious as she was of his presence, she could think of nothing to say to him. To declare that Buccleuch must be mad to think he could arrange a marriage between them would be a waste of breath and, under the circumstances, to announce that she had no intention of marrying a reiver seemed overly blunt and ungrateful besides.
Gratitude was an odd emotion, she decided, and fleeting, as well. That she had not had to face Hugh at the height of his fury with her was a godsend, but the reiver had clearly thought no farther than that moment. What had he intended to do with her after he got her to Scotland? The obvious answer did not seem to apply. Although the Laird of Hermitage had accused him of abducting her, Buccleuch had seemed to feel more put upon than angry, and he had promised to see her safe. It clearly had not occurred to him that the reiver might already have ravished her.
"What will become of me?" she asked bluntly.
"You will not suffer for helping me, lass. I promise you, I will see to that."
"You cannot think that I will marry you," she protested. "Not only would it be a dreadfully unsuitable union , but you would hang for it."
"Aye, perhaps."